The Land of Snippets
by RT4ever
Summary: Latest snippet is Terminal City on the Terminal Day. Basic ML on a roof looking onto the city.
1. Chapter 1

_I suck at snippets. Me and five hundred words? That's like my hello. I'm trying though honestly I am. :-P _

_So I'm housing my real snippets and the longer ones (meaning the 2x snippets) here. Oh and if you're reading this and have NO idea what I'm talking about. Go to Blah Blah Woof Woof and I mean 'run, don't walk' kind of go. _

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**Snippet 8-25-07 'Food' Response**

He normally liked the quiet, far more at ease with it than large noisy dinner parties, where he was expected to be someone he hadn't been since 12:05pm, June first so many years ago.

Now though, at the well-set dinner table, absentmindedly forking his salad into his mouth, barely tasting the vinaigrette he had carefully been testing during its preparation to make sure it had just the right amount of acidity and seasoning…

And now it was going to waste on someone who wasn't even tasting it, he wished Peter would give up his stance and join him, wished Lauren and Sophie weren't upstairs having dinner with Mrs. Moreno.

He wondered if his neighbor had any idea just how many times she had nearly been greeted with a bullet.

But it was good for Lauren to relax a bit tonight, before they…

Mrs. Moreno would amuse Sophie in ways he and Lauren wouldn't have been able to manage and even if she mentioned they were in his apartment, no one ever paid much attention to her. It would be good for them all to have this night.

He wished…

He wished he hadn't scared her off.

He had carefully worked out his script as he methodically prepared dinner, 'I'm not a half-bad cook.' He had become so over time, he had slowly honed the skill with countless meals after long and stressful days, where he just needed something, anything to push everything else away for an hour. He could focus on the meal, its deliberate preparation and nothing else and eventually his problems would just settle into a blur.

Tonight though he had thought of her with every chop, every stir, every pinch.

Not that smirk, or that catsuit…No, the mission. He had thought about her abilities, not what she must have gone through in her life. No, about saving Lauren and Sophie, of making sure Sonrisa wouldn't hurt anyone else; wouldn't take anymore fathers away from their children.

But when she looked at him it had all become a struggle. _Words normally came easy to him. _

He was systematically going over their conversation, trying to figure out where exactly he'd lost her as he loaded his plate with dinner, though truthfully, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been hungry.

He'd come on too strong, he decided as a bite of chicken was thoroughly being chewed, his fork still in the air as he'd forgotten to lower it.

He hadn't had the time for a 'slow and easy' approach though. Tomorrow, he'd…

The fork froze mid-plunge to his plate and he swallowed the not completely chewed bite of chicken that scraped along his suddenly dry throat.

He shook his head, there _would_ be a tomorrow.

There _had_ to be a tomorrow.

He looked down at his near empty plate that he hadn't remembered eating. Two bites of chicken. His final taste of…

No, he quickly corrected himself.

There would be other dinners, other meals, maybe even a few with her.

This wasn't his last dinner.

He speared a bite of chicken and tried to savor it, but instead found it tasted like dust. It was suddenly hard and chewy, flavorless.

It couldn't possibly be his last meal.

His heart started to pound and he had the sudden urge to push away from the table, but instead he kept his demeanor calm and systematically finished off the meal, never tasting another bite.

He cleared the table, carefully storing the leftovers in the fridge for an easy meal later on because there would be a later on. He resisted the urge to leave his dishes dirty in the sink because he was sure they were the last thing he'd want to return to the apartment to.

His blood was still pumping as everything was left to dry and he wondered about trying to talk Peter into going for a run with him, he hadn't been outside doing something for himself in days.

It was late though and he should save his energy…

Plenty of times to run in the future and hopefully none tomorrow…

He thought about her as he dried his hands and there was a sudden tightening of his chest and he knew for sure there would be a tomorrow.

There had to be a tomorrow.


	2. Snippet 9207

**Snippet 9-2-07 'Max's tears at Wedding' Response**

She was bored.

Bored and annoyed.

Honestly, did he really think that wanna-be was right for their family?

The enthusiastic smiles, the doe eyes, the pure devotion that shined in them…

She wasn't suited for their life. If anything proved it, it was that dress, all the frills and excess, it flashed her right back to the 80's. Certainly not the 21st century. _Vintage Galliano, Versace, Channel, those were acceptable, not 1980's Jersey. _

The minister continued to go on and on and she fought the impulse to spin her hand and urge him to speed it up.

_Oh and her son…_

She kept the forced, tender smile on her lips as she listened to him begin to drone on and wondered how exactly he had grown up in their household, she knew that nanny had coddled him too much.

She had to look down and smooth out a non-existent wrinkle on her dress as the girl proved just how annoying she would be in their family as she talked about building bridges.

Oh she'd build her one alright, a nice long one that would end in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

'By the power vested in me…'

Oh thank god it was over, if she had to hear another word about angels, while staring at that god awful dress with the half sleeves…

She turned to swing her gaze over the crowd as they finished their kiss, her expression infinitely heartfelt that would appear genuine to all, but her few close friends.

Her face paused as she startled, catching sight of her husband's nephew's date blotting her eyes with a tissue, looking markedly out of place with such an incorrect act. Cry upwards, blot lightly, lessons that one learned at 16…Though perhaps she had a few more months left before she truly missed that developmental milestone.

She was beautiful though.

Exquisite in fact. A raw, untouched beauty.

Cynical and hard though, that had been her first impression of the young girl.

She wasn't naïve.

There was just a small part of her that still believed.

It reminded her of when she married Jonas. The unconscious belief that somehow it would be different for them.

It wasn't though, it never was.

Just for a few seconds sometimes, you got to believe.

It would always end in heartache. In fights, mistresses, work, life…

But those few seconds when things truly seemed possible…

The clouds parted, the sunshine beat down on you…

Those few seconds were bliss.

She'd been staring too long, just a few seconds, but too long if anyone saw her, noticed the smile on her face as one of longing, bittersweet.

She turned back, Bennett and Marianne were joyous, oblivious, caught up in their moment, unaware of the monumental mistake they had just made and just to their side, Logan looked like a deer caught in the headlights or more appropriately with that hair, electrocuted. Panicked, confused, shocked…

Her smile turned into a smirk in that moment of true amusement as she turned her cheek to receive her husband's congratulatory kiss and she let out an airy chuckle before wondering if she'd ever have a moment like that again.


	3. Snippet 91207

**Snippet 9-12-07 'The What Ifs of Logan Cale' Response **

As Logan absentmindedly stared at the few lights scattered over the city at this time of night, he couldn't help but wonder what would have been if…

_No, no, he wouldn't go there not again. ___

_Max. _

He had to stop wondering about the what ifs. It was over. It was done and it was for the best.  
_  
__If she had stayed for dinner…_

_If he had kissed her on the beach…_

_If he hadn't told her to answer the phone…_

No matter what, legs or no legs and other vital areas, he wanted more for her. A life, a family, a future…

This was already more for him, if not for her than he would have been dead six months ago and the maybe ifs were starting to drive him insane this particularly slow night and they needed to stop.

And as his mother always said, 'you're exactly where you're supposed to be,' though he often wondered if she would have stood by that statement if she had known where she was going to be on June 1st 2009 at 12:05pm. If she had known she would lay dying for hours as the world swirled around her in chaos, watching as the vows she had taken twenty four years earlier came true and her husband died next to her.

People didn't know that though, no one new at least. Sometimes it was mentioned in passing with vague details as it had been to Valerie, but with most he shared the day just as he had with Max, with a charming smile and a cocky tone.

They didn't known that by the time he finally made his way back home, he was greeted only by his uncle and youngest cousin, two rifles pointed at him instead of his mother's arms, which he hadn't even realized he'd been desperately longing for and hadn't been fulfilled by the housekeeper, who came rushing out throwing her arms around him in relief.

There was an apology about the yacht buried amongst the panic as he found out his parents hadn't returned to the house. His uncle tried to play it off, that they had taken shelter elsewhere, the apartment CI kept downtown, a friend's house, the office…

They were _his_ parents though…

So his uncle tried suggesting they had gone looking for him at the marina, he wasn't particularly successful.

He often wondered about something else as well, if his uncle had let him leave the house that day. Maybe he could have found her, saved her…

Logically he knew it wasn't possible, but he still wished they let him try.

Hell, there was still the twenty year old in him that wished to take that day back entirely. Leave his life complete, instead of in tatters.

He would have stopped fighting with his father, would have never made his mother worry ever again. His degree, his job would have been forgotten. No more plans for scouring the globe in search of injustices…He would have put on the suit and tie and died a little every day just to keep them from doing so.

He would have married a sweet girl in his late twenties just as his father had. He would have had a baby a few years later. Settled into a house nearby his parents', ostentatiously large that he wouldn't have been able to afford even with the over-inflated salary his name guaranteed.

He would have lunch at the club every weekend. Think it was normal to have a spot reserved at a pre-school before the student was even conceived. He would golf with his father, go to the opera with his mother and drink way too much to survive every full family dinner he would be subjected to.

He would do it all.

That was why he didn't tell people. They would know. His entire life demolished twice within one day. They would understand the need to fix things. They would understand how it was so entwined.

The loss of his parents…The loss of freedom, of power, of control, of safety….

If he could fix the world then…

If he could make it all go back to how it was…

Logically he knew…

Yet he knew how his psyche worked. Knew the conscious connection it had made between that world and this one. _They_ had never existed in this world, not to him. If he could just find his way back to that world…


	4. Snippet 91707

I swear I'm going to do a different Twinkie Defense snippet, that actually focuses on it a little more, but I swear Mari said ML and cream one too many times….

**Snippet 9-17-07 'The Twinkie Defense' Response **

"I can't believe we're a cliché," she declared cradled against his bare chest, atop the oddly stained mattress on a cement floor, a scratchy brown blanket their only defense against the germs and DNA of others.

"Hmmm?" he wondered not knowing where she was going, turned out Bling had been right, Max was a girl after-all, trying to follow her train of thoughts at times proved that even more so than their previous activities.

She sighed, "You, me, bed, Valentine's day, chocolate and cream," she ended her statement with a pout.

"Well if you had given me more of a warning, I could have put the Yodel down," he referred to the gooey mess that lay crushed beneath them and on them.

"Wasn't my fault," she pouted further, "you looked all…Pretty." She frowned at herself for saying that.

"Pretty?"

"The whole shaved thing, hair not in front of your face…Halfway naked," she looked up with a smirk.

"I was changing," he pointed out.

"While you were eating a Yodel..." _The amusement she had over that word… _

"I got it at lunch," he finally smirked, "right before the beef stew assault."

"Do I want to ask?" she rolled her eyes.

"I have a daily urge to quote the nineties and ask, 'Why can't we all just get along?''

She groaned and burrowed in closer to him. "All the people we should be fighting with and are and they insist on fighting with each other."

"I'm sorry," he brushed back the long brown hair.

She groaned, "This still doesn't change the fact that we're a cliché."

He chuckled once more. "If you hadn't toppled me into bed without even saying hello."

She pouted once more, "Not my fault." And it wasn't. There was something about Logan, he was a necessity, an addiction, she couldn't function without him anymore; sometimes she wondered if she was trying to stock up, to store up their memories just in case... Whatever it was, fifteen minutes without Logan could occasionally feel like too much. Her need for him overrode all thought, including tossing the Yodel out of his hand before they hit the mattress.

"Hey at least there aren't any strawberries," he teased, furthering the Valentine's Day cliché.

"Smell my hair," she responded dryly.

His head lowered to take a deep breath of her, "That is definitely an improvement on the Flea Shampoo of last week.'

"Don't start with me on that again, they were on me. I could feel them on me," her skin crawled at the mere memory.

He chuckled again, "Whatever you say."

"Don't make us into one of those 'Yes dear,' couples that's worse than the Valentine's Day cliché.

"Max, if I had any response for that aside from laughing, I promise I'd tell you."

"Not funny when they're on you," she explained.

"Still rather amusing watching you bounce around like that," his lips twitched up in a memory of watching her flare about, scratching and tearing at her clothing.

"So we're a 'yes dear,' pointless bickering, clichéd Valentine's Day, stereotypic couple. Wouldn't have guessed that one," she rolled her eyes.

"I've got to admit I like the whole normal couple aspect of our lives. A radioactive city, living with characters that I used to watch on Saturday Mornings, actually considering the sewers...pretty much living a life something I would have watched on tv as a child…"

"Yea come to think of it maybe normal's not so bad and I mean it's not like you have a Valentine's day poem tucked under your pillow."

"That I can promise you we're safe from."

"Really?" she turned up with a look slight heartbreak.

"I've been kind of busy," he tucked her hair behind her ear, "though if you really want one I'm sure I could come up with something."

_He USED to write poetry about her. _

"There once was a girl from Seattle. Oh how they did fear her in battle-"

She hit him, worse than she had over the flea escapade of the previous week. "It's Valentine's Day and I get battle?"

"Not much rhymes with Seattle," his expression a mixture of contrite and amused.

"This is our first Valentine's Day," she pushed off of him and sat up, "and all I've gotten is a quick roll in the hay, which is almost literal for how this blanket feels, a squished-"

She stopped when something was suddenly shining in her face, dangling from Logan's fingers. "Your mom's locket."

"Which you would have gotten after tonight's dinner," he smirked, "chicken of course and a bottle of cheap champagne, best I could do under the circumstances."

She scrunched up her face as she took it, glad OC hadn't been around to witness this meltdown, but knowing her friend would still get one hell of a laugh when hearing the story, "Rest of the cliché involves a candlelight dinner doesn't it?"

"That it does."

"Okay so do that," she handed it back over.

He laughed again, "Do what?"

"The wrapped up with a pretty bow, dropped into a glass of champagne-"

"That's an engagement ring."

"Whatever do your thing," she smiled and quickly kissed him before bounding to her feet.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he pointed out.

"I can fake surprise," she shrugged.

"I suppose I could not give it to you," he studied it for a moment, struggling to keep a straight face.

She paused in pulling up her jeans. "I'll sic Original Cindy on you if you try something like that."

"Consider me forewarned," he smirked and moved to get dressed as well. _They had been missing for long enough. _"Remember telling me showering was romantic?"

"Still is, as is brushing your teeth and you've just experienced how well shaving turns out for you," she smirked.

"So candlelight, dinner, flowers around 9?" he asked as he was pulling on his shoes and she was double checking her appearance.

"Aww you got me flowers?" her entire expression softened.

"I'd save that aww until you see them," he hastily replied.

"It's the thought," she nodded with a continuing smile. "Oh and Logan," she turned back as she was going to leave the room, "you better work on that poem."


	5. DST Challenge

**I hope your test went well Griever!!!!!**  
_I'd say I put off writing until after I knew you were safely at your test, but man it was soooo one of those weekends where I got guilted into things with other people that took DOUBLE the time they should have. :-( But hey, this technically worked into my original plan of posting AFTER your test in order to not stress your willpower._

AN: I am entirely too lazy to edit this. I'll do it later, hopefully. :-P

**DST Challenge**

_Setting: Terminal City. Prequel to 'When Gray was Yellow' and 'Ponderings.'_

Despite Terminal City's size, Max was always amazing at how loud it could be. Her kind, repressed for years, it was more than being taught to conform, it was never even realizing individuality got to exist…They had taken to freedom, to creativity, to boisterous behaviors, Max often found herself about to channel the many mothers she had known with the simple phrase 'Indoor voices.' So when the city grew silent, voices and activity near non-existent, it tended to result in an awed relief, just as she experienced this night.

Her eyes opened to the darkened room, taking a few seconds to fully adjust to her nighttime vision because after all, Manticore had been more of a crapshoot genetics adventure, as her brethren proved and basic physiological limits still existed. Rods took longer than cones.

Her senses took in the darkened room, the only sound being gentle breath, the musty odor being poorly concealed by the after effects of a pear candle, the soft blanket above her, the warm, hard body beneath her; the thin strip of mattress than her own body encompassed.

Her need for sleep satiated, after all it didn't take much, the person beneath deep into his sleep, the thought of that alone made her smile, she wasn't quite sure why, but it did.

She rolled away, onto the cold mattress her body rarely tended to touch and moved to sit. 1:58 the vcr read, a present from Logan after one too many boring nights, she was sure it cost him an arm and a leg, especially considering it was long before they had been able to venture out into the city, early on in the siege. _Another thing that made her smile. _

She blinked as her mind took in what she wasn't paying attention to, 1:59 to 1:00?

Daylight savings time already?

_That wasn't possible. _

It was November?

_No, no she knew that. Halloween._

It was Sunday?

_Huh, guess that made sense as well. _

Her sense of time and season had really gone out the window with this siege. _Probably because she was in places like this one, without any windows. _

An extra hour.

Granted she'd just lose it again in a few months, but still. This November…November…_When was Halloween again? _Oh well, she'd look that up later, this first Sunday in November 2021, she got an extra hour. The 7th, it was the 7th. Just knowing that simple fact relieved her, made her feel like she wasn't so out of touch with the world she missed.

The overly sweetened coffees grabbed while they _should _have been busting their humps across the city. The comfortable warmth of Logan's apartment, always set at the exact right degree. Walking down a busy sidewalk without a care in the world, just getting to be normal, getting to blend in; being worried about only one set of bad guys spotting you instead of a dozen.

An hour…What to do with an hour?

Sandeman was a night owl, she could always go join him and his techies, see how much progress they were making with that whacked out virus threatening the world. _She was really getting sick of whacked out viruses threatening people. _

Find Lydecker see what new schematics he was going over. An assault, a break-in, a new line of defense. He was always studying something, always planning, he refused to let them get the one up on him and his 'kids' again.

Knock Zack out of his contemplative mode. Broody now only seemed to appear once everyone else went to sleep, during the day he kept himself busy enough to avoid thinking, but as Krit had warned her before Lydecker had sent him south on a mission, Zack just laid awake at night while everyone else slept. Her brother who had once adored sleep and used to glare at her and Jondy as they would keep him awake at night…She would be surprised if he wasn't sleeping less than her every night.

Find Joshua and get a chuckle or two out of watching him chase or run from something in his dream because once more Manticore had taken the crap shoot route with them and her brother didn't seem to have the same paralysis everyone else experienced while sleeping, _at least he stayed horizontal though._ Chasing after the big guy while he was sleepwalking would not be a good use of the extra hour.

Gem was sleeping through the night now that Rei was.

Alec was…Well trying to track down whose bed or broom closet Alec was in on any given night…

Try to sneak a snack in the Mess.

A quick sparring session in, down at their 'gym,' she hadn't gone up against anyone in almost three weeks, _shouldn't let herself get rusty. _

A nice mani/pedi she thought with a frown looking down at her nails.

Laundry would be a good idea, she thought with another frown as she glanced over at her pile…of suddenly folded laundry, yet she was pretty sure still dirty laundry. Her boyfriend: the scatterbrain or neat freak; she wondered when he even had the time to do that. Though at least this time, he hadn't stuffed it into a desk drawer, resulting in her spending ten minutes looking for it. They needed to have another discussion about the room they were sharing, more importantly where it was located. For some reason, she was pretty sure TC canceled out any need for neatness or order despite the fact that they had no common area to 'entertain.' His family had left his mind twisted in ways she hadn't even begun to imagine before this whole thing started.

1:05.

She should probably figure out what she was going to do with her extra hour before she used her entire hour.

She dropped her gaze down to the man flat on his back and oblivious to the world.

Her man.

Her scruff.

Her lock of hair across his forehead.

Her perfectly sloped nose…

Chin.

Cheeks.

Lips…

That could be a nice way to spend the 55 minutes. Or…

No, no, not longer, Logan still needed his sleep.

Just then the slight catch of his breath and the quick snore that accompanied it, resulting in another quick smile and silent chuckle from her. She should probably roll him.

_Should…_

Another look up at the clock, 1:07, and back down to Logan. 53 gifted minutes.

Her body down, a roll to the side, the blanket pulled up. The hard, warm, body, the serenade of breath, the glow of a green light. She couldn't think of a better way to spend it.


	6. The Girl Who Should Have Died a Saint

Explanation: So there was a test, an evil test and there was a birthday and another story. But well evil test equals evil Mia. Finally just posting it, doubt many of you will read it, but hey…

Reminder: I named Val's hubby, Deke in E&O. I'm sticking with it.

Before I confuse you, the memory is an old memory. Pre-boozehound Val (hence the title).

_

* * *

_

**_The Girl Who Should Have Died a Saint_**

"Neighbors said she had no family," _she grasped at some of the words being said around her. _

"Shame, she's so young."

"Probably was a looker before," the original voice, "bigger shame is she had a blood alcohol content of .17."

"She was still standing?" the other voice asked in amusement.

"Obviously not very well."

_Well that was uncalled for, she wanted to tell him. _

The woman chuckled.

"Chronic alcoholic, just look at her."

_No, no she wasn't. _She'd just been upset after Deke…

"Shame."

"Neighbors say her boyfriend moved out a few months ago haven't seen her with anyone steady since."

_Husband, Deke was her husband. And those guys…She hadn't meant for those guys to happen…_

"So no one to miss her stuff?" the woman's voice asked.

_She would!_

"Paramedics or her neighbors picked her clean before she got here. Looks like there used to be a ring on that finger."

_Her ring wasn't there? It had to have been that old biddy in 4A. _

"She looks like she used to be a sweet girl," the woman's voice sympathetically commented.

"There are a lot of those in this city," the man dryly retorted.

"No one should have to die alone."

_Nice to be worried about that after you were…Die? Die? Wait no, die? She wasn't dying. She fell. Her heel had caught or she lost her balance…She remembered trying to grab onto something…_

"Doc didn't want to free up the bed?"

"Morphine's in tight supply, he just gave her enough to make her comfortable. Nature will do the rest soon."

_No, no. She was NOT dying. She'd just turned 30. You didn't die at thirty. She was going to grow old, have kids, fix everything she'd screwed up. She had too much left to do, she couldn't die. _

_She couldn't die. Not like this. _

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

She felt the arm around her waist and a quick pull back that nearly sucked the breath out of her. Not so much as the car whizzing by created though.

He reacted without thought and turned her into his body, cradling her against him.

"My heel," was her shaky gasp into his chest. Soft green eyes looked down as she continued, "it got caught."

"If it got caught, shouldn't you have stayed put?" his wit remained even after such a fright, it was the kind of thing that would have endeared him to her even if she didn't love him.

"Tell that to my body," she smiled as he did, "it decided to pitch forward."

He suddenly pulled her in tighter, "God Val, you've got to be more careful, I could have lost you."

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

_If only. He had loved her, she'd had a family. People had talked about her with smiles, they hadn't pilfered her stuff. _

_She'd had it all. She grown up to be the person she'd always dreamed of being and she threw it all away. _

_He had loved her. He would have grieved. He would be holding her hand, ordering doctors not to give up, just as he would order her not to. He'd be on the phone with specialists, calling in doctors from everywhere. He'd be reminding her that she was his wife; she didn't get to leave him. Remind her that they had promised forever and this was nowhere near close to that. _

_He would grieve for her. _

_He would make sure she was buried in her favorite dress, surrounded by her favorite flowers; he would deliver her eulogy to her, not the crowd, though it would move them to tears. _

_He would lay flowers, he would grieve, but most importantly, he would remember. _

_She would have died a saint. _

_She should have died a saint, perfect girlfriend, who became the perfect fiancée, who became the perfect wife. _

_She would have been missed, she would have been remembered; she would have been. _

_Without the endless bottles of wine and vodka…_

_The fights picked for no reason…_

_The men picked up because he wasn't there…_

_The icy looks given as she realized she'd lost him forever… _

_The stoic back turned to her as she destroyed them once again…_

_She would have died a saint. _

_A brief mention from his lips because the pain would be too great. _

_A woman he compared all others to._

_Valerie Elizabeth Cale._

"You sure she didn't come in with an address book or something?" the woman asked.

_Her address book. Logan!_

"Just the clothes on her back, if she had a bag it's long gone."

_No, no. She needed Logan. They needed to find Logan. _

"Poor girl," the woman once more sympathetically began.

"It'll be over soon," the man quickly replied, "and so will our paychecks if that witch finds us in here again."

"Ugh," she groaned, "I can't believe I have to be here for three more hours…" she said as they walked away.

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

"So what are we doing for lunch?" she asked with a smile as she grabbed his hand, swinging it with spring like enthusiasm, she'd skip if she thought he'd join her.

"I don't know," he looked down at her with a smile. "What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't know," she said as they walked in step down the sidewalk in a well-off part of town, still lined with stores filled goods you'd want to buy.

"Not Italian," he decided.

"Or a sandwich," she countered, at least narrowing their list. "Sushi?"

"I still don't trust sushi," was his quick answer.

"It's been years Logan; you've got to start trusting seafood again."

"I'll trust raw fish again when the lights stay on for a full month."

She pouted, "Fine."

They continued to walk hand in hand down the street in their spring gear. The violet dress that swooshed as she walked, the jeans and a peach button up with its sleeves rolled up. Not needing a destination, just having each other and the day.

"Think we should have gotten that bowl?" her face scrunched.

"A bowl that's supposed to remain empty for 300 dollars?"

She frowned and shot him a look, "Says the art lover."

"It's a bowl," he retorted with a smile swinging his gaze to her.

"Hey," she smiled brightly, "think of it as a sign the economy is rebounding."

He laughed.

"So seriously about lunch?"

"Hmmm," he murmured. "Thai?"

Another frowning, pondering face, "Simpler?"

"Simple food, close by," he repeated thinking to himself.

"Oh hey look, that looks like the stereo you wanted," she yanked his arm towards the store front.

"No," he said peering into the window, their hands separated for the act as he tried to block out the sun. "I think that's the old model, maybe we'll stop in after lunch though?"

"Sounds good," she turned on her heel with a bounce, "ooh maybe we could go to Marrietto's? Oh I love those pizzas," she declared with near drooling glee, she bounded with mindless joy, quite near that skip that had been threatening to emerge all day long. Her head halfway turned as she heard Logan's chuckle as she was stepping off the curb and then her foot didn't lift, making her body pull harder at it. She felt herself going forward, unable to stop it; she could almost feel the fingers almost reaching her. _So close…_

And then it went black.

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

A woman's finger pressed the button that silenced the monotonous tone being emitted from the antiquated machine; they had no money to replace.

She looked down with a sad smile, "I hope you found peace," she whispered.

* * *

So did I confused anyone with that? 


	7. Blue Christmas

Blue's Wishlist 

1) - Max and Logan or Eyes Only helping one of Max's siblings

2) - a present

3) - snow

4) - a happy ending (it's Christmas after all)

5) - Max and Logan discussing a Manticore related issue

6) - S1

My Christmas challenge snippet to Blue. Sorry about the delay in the gifts. I should have listened to myself when I said finish. Three hours left last night and not much more to go and I decide to hit the hay instead of finish up in the morning since the deadline was postponed. Haha. It was a cute dream, sadly I did not stop dreaming until I was supposed to be up and doing other things.

Once more MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

(this one only has three in from the list…If I'd figured out how to make it longer, it would have them all :-P)

* * *

**Blue Christmas**

"It's like the Christmases they always show on tv only in March," she shook her head. "I can't believe it's snowing," Max leaned back on her hands, looking up at the falling snow.

"I can't believe I'm sitting in the snow," Logan retorted without much glee.

She looked over and glared. "It's the first snow-"

"It's snowed before," he dryly pointed out.

"First time it's stuck this year," she quickly responded. "What the hell's crawled up your ass?"

"Could be anything…I won't know until I get home and shower."

She rolled her eyes and leaned back in the snow, "Thought you were over the whole Vertes thing."

"The whole Vertes thing?" he asked without amusement.

"There are still other doctors you said you-"

"Max," his voice raised several decibels, "even if," his voice lowered and he looked around suspiciously. "Even if," he continued in a hushed whisper deciding no one was listening in on their conversation, "I could manage to find my way out of the country and buy my way into a different program and even if it managed to work this time when didn't last time. That would mean months, possibly even years away from Seattle and that's not even guaranteeing I could make it back to Seattle."

"Most people would be kicking up their heels to stay out of this dump," she cocked her head.

He didn't say anything.

"Can't be Eyes Only keeping you here because you proved that with the whole Sonrisa thing."

_This was going to be good¸ _he turned.

"You didn't care about all the good you could have been doing instead of 6 feet under."

"Max-"

"Remind me how many of you came out alive?"

He didn't say anything.

"Remind me if anyone would still be alive if I hadn't bailed your ass out."

"Pretty sure I said thanks more than a few times," he replied with bite.

"Not the point," _after all he'd saved her ass more than a handful. _

"There's going to be a point to this?"

"You got a second chance Logan. Either you stop whining that it's a little bit different or go do something to fix it."

"Thanks Max," he nodded. "I hadn't been aware I was whining."

She shook her head at him, still annoyed. _A girl could only take so much of the self-pity._ "You were so willing to give up on Seattle when you went after him, what the hell's keeping you here now?" she demanded with fiery eyes.

The hand slipped into the wind tangled hair harshly and pulled her in the few feet they sat separated from each other. His mouth demanded exactly what hers had a few months earlier, a crush of her soul to his. Without pretenses, without lies, without the cover story they placed on all actions regarding the other, the indifference meant to protect their very being from destruction.

She had no idea the amount of time that had passed when they finally separated, breathless and confused.

The indifference returned to his eyes in a rush to protect the worry in them.

She frowned in pure puzzlement, "Me?"

He looked briefly away before licking his lips as he turned back, trying to think of something to say.

"You'd really stay in Seattle? You'd really give up on your legs for me?"

_Was that it?_ He wondered to himself. Could he really want his legs and everything else back for her? And not be able to get it for the exact same reason? _Her?_

" Seattle?" she questioned again. Not in horror or panic. But simple wonderment over what he was willing to give up for her. "Me?"

"Thrown off a building. A cabin surrounded by killers with guns….Telemarketers office with convict super soldiers. Crash?"

She smirked, but then once more shook her head in wonderment, a small smile outwardly conveying the sheer amazement of it.

"I'm sorry I was being an ass," he apologized. A smile on his lips, still not quite sure what had happened.

Her head cocked, "Sorry if something crawled up it."

He laughed.

She smiled back.

"I'd sit in the snow with you any day," he nodded with serious eyes.

"Promise?"

"Yea," he nodded again.

"I'd freeze my toes off for you any day," she returned his pledge.

He smiled and leaned in forward again.

She met him in a light kiss, delicate and teasing, new, yet perfect. There was noise around them that they didn't hear. It was just them and their wonderment.

"Is this what Christmas feels like?" she found herself asking with a bemused smile on her face when they once more separated, seeing the slight moisture on his face from the melted flakes. What all those songs talked about, the thrill of getting something so unexpected and precious.

"Christmas, birthdays, Easter, Halloween, all in one" he explained in reverence of them, of this.

She smiled as she leaned back in for another kiss.

* * *

_Sorry about the lack of a middle in the story. They just wanted to get to the happily ever after part. :-P_


	8. No Thanks

**AN: **I don't remember where this is from, it was a snippet from some prompt, I don't think it's finished, but I don't remember what the point of it was (hey I'm at least honest). However, after reading it through, it does seem to have a complete thought/point, so it can go into my snippets (so I can move it out of my 'current' folder and never look at it again). If only trying to figure out all of my other half assed documents were so easy (seriously, I seem to have a dozen for each of my more popular stories).

* * *

**Snippet-April 16, 2006**

He watched from the corner of his eye as Bennett's friends chatted with each other, the easy camaraderie between childhood friends. Glasses switched in their hands on a regular basis. Short glasses of Scotch, tall flutes of champagne…

Valerie had gone on this kick once, long before Feng Shui…About what a person's drink said about them. At the time he'd found it cute, but eventually that had grown into a different story.

Champagne she'd claimed said a guy was confident about themselves. They didn't care that it was a decidedly more feminine drink, from the bubbles to the glass, even the grape itself was intrinsically delicate.

He remembered laughing at her naiveté, remembered the taste of her lips…How the Scotch on his blended with the sweet taste of the champagne on hers. 'Sweetheart,' he'd whispered in a teasing tone, 'I think it's more of convenience,' and as if on cue a waiter had walked by where they'd been watching and glasses were quickly switched on and off before their eyes.

'No one likes a no-it-all Logan,' she'd pouted and hit him before he tugged her into his side for a reassuring hug. 'It's true everywhere else,' she defended.

'I'm sure it is,' he had consoled.

He remembered being one of those guys. Tucked away in the corner, talking about everything under the sun. Remembered how easy and relaxed it was before the Pulse.

Cars, boats and planes.

Football, baseball and basketball.

Women they'd seen on the street, women they knew in common, women they were dating, women they would never see again.

What they'd been up to, what they were doing in that moment, what their plans were for the future.

After the Pulse it seemed like their main topic of conversation were things that had happened before the Pulse. The lives they'd led that now seemed separated by a glass window. They could still see in, still remember, but they couldn't touch it.

They eventually learned to talk about other things, crooked politics in the city, their golf handicap, how insane theirs wives/girlfriends were…Grandiose plans for either resolving the depression or for after the depression.

He had been one of those men though. However eventually it had gotten too trivial, he returned phone calls, but never actually called anyone himself. The RSVP cards always checked no, with a short note of his apologies.

He would have assumed they would have eventually stopped coming, but they hadn't. Logan wondered what that meant: his 'friends' hadn't given up on him, his family was too 'important' to allow for him to be taken off the list or if they were simply waiting for the day that they didn't get that little card back, knowing that would be the end of 'Logan Cale' and it would then be time to add him to the things they reminisced about.

"Champagne sir?" a passing waiter asked noticing the guest's empty hand.

He smiled at the tray and the sparkling bubbles, "No thanks," and turned in search of Max.


	9. Snippet 100807

**Snippet 10-08-07 'The Naming of Eyes Only' Response**

* * *

"Logan," his mother's voice drawled, in a calm yet encouraging tone as she tried yet again to coax the information out of her son.

Green eyes looked up innocently as he awaited another inquest. Shuffling in the large peach chair in his mother's sitting room, his legs dangling several inches off the floor, itching to get down and go play.

"Sweetheart," she leaned forward in her chair and covered his politely folded hands with her own, her eyes linking up with his, the blue expressing compassion, wanting him to always feel safe enough to confide anything with her.

He looked up, "It wasn't me."

She followed this line of questioning again, "Oh really Logan? Then who was it?"

"I dunno," he muttered as he looked down.

"Now Logan," she tilted his chin up with a single finger, not allowing him so display such a weakness, aside from him being _her _baby, he was still a Cale and should act as such. "Do you know what they say about the eyes?"

His head shook no.

"They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Everything that you are is contained within those two little orbs," she told him in awe.

His eyes brightened suddenly in his own wonder, "What's an orb?"

She frowned, annoyed with herself for introducing a vocabulary lesson, in the middle of a moral one. "Round, like a ball, baby. I'm talking about your eyes."

"Oh," the light left his eyes a bit and his mouth dropped as he realized her lecture wasn't over.

"Now all truths, everything about you, is contained right here," she tapped on his temples with her index fingers. "Now," she began after a moment of deeply looking into his eyes, "are you sure you don't want to tell me how the cat got broken?" She referred to the white porcelain cat circa the 1880's that appraisers had valued at five thousand, a value that had been sure to increase before it lay smashed on the plush cream carpet next to the bed and judging by the amount of pieces it now lay in, she was sure it's fate had been met by more than just a fall to the floor.

He had no chance against the psychic eyes that studied him, but he tried anyway with a small shrug.

"Logan," she repeatedly his name softly, yet firmly.

"Daddy," he guiltily turned on one parent for the other and diverted his eyes, unable to deal with his betrayal.

"Daddy?" she tilted his head back in her direction.

"I hadda pee. Dad was playin' with my soccer ball."

"Oh really," she questioned, not truly for informational purposes, but in shock.

Logan let out another small nod.

"I'm very proud of you for telling the truth," she forced herself to say as her eyes saw red, "why don't you go ask Anna for a cookie; tell her I said it's okay."

He looked at her hesitantly, as his small hands clutched the edge of the seat, ready to pounce off, but not quite sure.

"Go ahead," she nodded.

And off he went.

-x-X-x-

"Oh sweetheart," she called out minutes later walking into her husband's study, her voice saccharin sweet and he didn't need to look up to know the gig was up.

* * *

**The prompt was the reason behind the name. I was hoping the 'ands' weren't really necessary to the snippet. A concept instilled at a young age and continuously reinforced and one of the prime motivators for the creation of Eyes Only…No one is above the truth, not even Daddy's. :-P**


	10. Snippet 92807 ‘Laughter’ Response

**Snippet 9-28-07 'Laughter' Response**

* * *

There was laughter, an odd sound, it didn't sound quite right, not forced or unnatural though, simply unused.

"What?" was the husky murmur that responded to it and a shifting of warmth as she moved to look up, rustling the covers as she did so.

"Nothing," the smile could be felt as sure as her dark hair suddenly being brushed aside by strong fingers.

"Nothing?" her brows lifted.

The smile more of a smirk now, felt from the inside, "You make me happy."

Her turn to smirk, "Never would have figured that one out myself," a soft hand was placed on his chest. "Your heart's pounding," she looked slightly puzzled and in awe by this.

His hand covered hers, "What can I say? You excite me." _You scare me. _

She looked ready to question him on this, so he pulled her to him first.

Dark eyes looked soulfully into his, "I don't know how I got so lucky. You make it all okay." She smirked. "Or at least worthwhile."

-x-x-X-x-x-

There was that pounding again, throbbing, aching, ready to burst.

_Take her, _it yelled.

_She'd go. Take her! _

He knew she'd go, he hated her for it.

He could hear her inside the apartment. Frantic.

There had been a gentle call of his name, the thud of her bag and then a moment of silence. His name louder; then began the frantic moves through their apartment, doors being flung open, drawers being pulled out, then the desperate move out of their apartment…her apartment now. Banging on the neighbors' doors, desperately searching for someone to tell her it wasn't true, that he wasn't gone. She tore back into the apartment with a neighbor nipping at her heels, grabbed her bag, slammed the door and then she was gone again. He ducked inside before she exited the building, not sure if she would look up and see him on the fire escape. He wouldn't be able to leave if he saw her again. Correction: He wouldn't be able to leave alone.

He walked past their stuff, through a minefield of memories and into the bathroom. Empty eyes greeted him. Empty, cold and blue. _She had loved his eyes. _She had claimed to love all of him and he thinks she would, but he can never give her the chance.

He's not doing this for him, he's doing it for her, but she'd never believe that. She'll hate him, there's nothing he can do to change that…nothing that won't make her vulnerable. Hate can be a power, a strength. Hate, fear and necessity got him through life until he met her. Before he found out there were stronger things, stronger urges, drives, all that compromised him, left him vulnerable to those who had instituted the fear and hate and all those like them.

"We're not made for this life," he whispered to himself as he allowed himself one final look at what could never be.

-x-x-X-x-x-

She wasn't exactly a creature of habit. Not to say she didn't occasionally exhibit certain patterns, but habit…There was one thing though. Joe's Diner, Saturdays. That was the only definite.

It could be early morning and a full breakfast before the rest of the day. It could be straggling in late, after a hard night out, a plate of pancakes split between them. Falling into a booth after a hard day's work, a cup of coffee, a piece of cake…

Yea, the diner and Saturdays was the only thing she did on a habitual basis.

He just needed to check on her. Make sure they hadn't gotten her. His sources had never hinted at that, but for all he knew they were playing him. This was all some sick, twisted manipulation of Lydecker's.

And then there she was, already there before he was, not surprising since it had been a last minute trip. Dark hair, longer than since he'd last seen her. Dark eyes watching as the strawberry milkshake dripped off the edge of her straw as she played with it like a child.

She plunged it back in rapidly and looked across the table, suddenly sitting up a little straighter and giving an apologetic smile to her companion.

That's when he realized what she'd done aside not take the money he'd left her and gone back to her parents, like he suggested in his note. She had become one of them. One of the blue collars swept up into alleged salvation by a white collar. It was a disease that had plagued the nation since the Pulse, the loss of the beautiful and sweet to those higher up in the caste system that ruled their nation. Those who had managed to retain a steady paycheck, heat and running water.

A perfect, dutiful wife, easy on the eyes and the nerves. She would be so thankful for everything she had that the rest of the country did not, that _he_ wouldn't have to do much to keep her in line, a gentle nudging would all she'd ever require, as she was always aware of how quickly she could be tossed back into the cold, dark world, _he_ had rescued her from.

_He_, the yuppie in the polo. Not he, Zack, not her Mark that she had known, loved and lived with in the steel tipped construction boots, paint splattered jeans and battered tee-shirts.

He remembered the first time he saw her, the fire, the attitude and then the vulnerability lurking behind those large brown eyes, the slightly crooked smile. He'd wondered if she was Max for a split second before moving onto thinking that she was how he hoped Max had grown up. Behind the years of compliance had always been a hint of defiance, he hoped she really had made it and it had come out, though not too much.

It wasn't Max ignoring the urge to play with her milkshake now though and he knew that eventually her eyes would find his and it wouldn't be one of those sappy romantic comedy scenes. She wouldn't run to him, throw her arms around him…

A slow walk, meant to show just how unaffected she was. Biting, cruel words to berate him for knowing how to live her life better than her and telling him he no longer had a right to judge her. And in the end she would unwittingly ask about them: if he had ever loved her, if they had meant anything to him, if any of it was true.

He wasn't sure he could lie. So the steel toed boots lifted and he left her life again.

-x-x-X-x-x-

A charcoal gray wagon pulled in front of Max's building and it drew Zack's suspicious attention, after all what the hell was that kind of car doing in front of this kind of building. Then his eyes focused on the woman in the passenger's seat, young, dark hair.

She looked nervous, her companion looked oblivious, he didn't notice her gaze shifting from him, to the windshield, to the door. When he did finally turn to face her, he didn't notice the way she stopped moving and as he made no attempt of getting out of the car with her as her hand was on the handle, he barely noticed her slightly turn back to him.

The trunk was popped as she walked around the car, extracted a bike from it with no help, not that she needed help, but….

Her companion finally realized to smile as she stopped at the entry and turned back, it caused a sudden one to emerge on her face and then worry and discomfort filled her eyes.

Her companion took off as the door closed, but Zack remained watching her building.

He tugged down his hood as he turned to leave a few seconds after the lights had turned on in the apartment he knew to be hers. He ignored the parallels that pounded in his heart, but he would save her from herself. He was her brother, she was his sister; it was his duty.

-x-x-X-x-x-

She shot forward in her bed with a memory of a laugh in her ears.

She gasped for air with wide eyes as one hand then another scratched down her chest, trying to tear off that raised flesh and what lay beneath.

Gasps turned to uncontrollable sobs. For a lost brother, a lost lover. A woman, who would never know how loved she was. A life that was sacrificed for hers. Her flawed and tragic one with a love that just couldn't be. She cried for a precious laugh she had never heard, yet knew. One she had one doubted ever existed.

Then she stopped. Abruptly despite the continued anguish. An unconscious command halted the action. She was after all a soldier.

-x-x-X-x-x-

* * *

AN: _Should have been dreamlike quality moving into a more real feeling dream (know how you can slip into them until they're more real than real life). I r_eally hate the ending….It was so much better in my head. You weren't supposed to realize it was Zack at the start, you weren't supposed to realize it was Max having the dream until she awoke…. That kind of thing


	11. The Pulse Snippet

Pulse Day last year's challenge.

* * *

**Terminal City on the Terminal Day**

12:49am

June 1st 2021

"You know for the guy who hates heights," she smiled walking up behind him on Terminal City's main building's roof, "you certainly spend a lot of time up here."

He briefly smiled as he looked out onto the city, his city. He missed it. Missed being part of it on a daily basis. Ached to do more than watch over it. "Stay up here long enough…" he smiled at her.

"Normalcy is highly overrated," she smiled back at him.

He smiled again, but it quickly fell. "Twelve years."

Her brows lifted in confusion then fell, "The Pulse."

He nodded. "The city fell asleep dreading Monday morning," he smirked. "Can you imagine?"

"Makes the normal hatred of Mondays a little more justified," she shrugged.

He chuckled lightly. "I wish you could have lived it Max. Really lived it. Not in a crappy foster home, running from Lydecker."

"Gotta admit, does look kinda cool in the movies."

"All we could see was how screwed up it was, there were so many things wrong, we didn't see what an amazing world we lived in."

"Gas stations alone would have convinced me it was heaven, I mean every block and they had gas?"

He frowned at the automatic connection his mind made between those words. "At least then you got shot inside the mini mart." He shook his head, trying to free himself of the memory of fear. "We all just went to sleep, we didn't have any idea what was about to happen."

She waited for him to continue, this was his story because that had been his world, never hers, she had just barely lived in it, but she had never been given the chance to connect with it.

"You know when you're out there you can see it the whole morning. Feels like everyone is watching the clock. Countdown to their lives being over. There's just this impending sense of dread with every minute that goes by. It doesn't feel like it was over a decade ago, you can feel it about to happen, but there's nothing you can do to stop it." His head slowly shook as he continued looking out at the city and not at her, "When I was at the paper, you could physically feel the day slow as noon approached, even when you tried to stay busy you could feel its pull. By noon the office would be almost silent, women would clutch hands, the tears would start and 12:05 it would break. They say it's because we never got a chance to _grieve_ when it happened. No one understood or even could understand that it was permanent for a really long time."

"What about you?" she softly questioned.

He looked over briefly, "I don't know." He turned back. "Most of the time I get it, but maybe days like today," his head slowly shook, "it just doesn't seem possible."

"I can get that," she nodded. "There are days I wake up, can't figure out why I'm not in my bed. Wonder what kind of tips I'm going to pull in before I open my eyes."

A bittersweet smile graced his lips. "You know after the city started to function again after the pulse, I never thought I'd take central heat and air for granted again."

She let out an unexpected low chuckle and he couldn't help, but mimic it.

"We're gonna make it through this you know," she said moments later as his gaze returned to his lost city and his lips fell.

He turned back with amused, but disbelieving eyes, "Isn't that normally my line?"

"Looked like you needed a boost," she answered with a sweet smile. The kind of smile he couldn't truly stay sad when seeing, if only for the simple reason that he didn't want it to reflect on her, she had too much of it already, he couldn't be the cause for more.

He was about to deny her observation, but they had come farther than that, "Thank you," he nodded.

She held out her gloved hand with a teasing smile and sparkling eyes. He took it. The lights out there suddenly didn't seem that unobtainable or even bright, not compared to where he was standing.

* * *

_Was going to make that longer and tie it into Snippet 3, but I decided I that Max and Logan weren't quite there yet in this fic. There's still a definite separation between them. That and well I have no muse. :-P _

_Thanks for reading!  
_


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